Wish on All the Stars Page 3

  I felt like shouting out a greeting to every animal I saw, I was so happy to be back. But I wasn’t five years old anymore. I needed to act like the mature eleven-year-old girl that I was. Still, when we stepped into the room with the chipmunks and no one was around, I dashed around the cage for old times’ sake.

  “Juliet, don’t you think you’re a little old for that?” Miranda asked me.

  “Clearly not,” Dad said with a smile.

  “It doesn’t feel the same,” I said when I finished.

  “The same as what?” Dad asked.

  “The same as when I did it when I was little,” I explained.

  “Yep. That’s growing up for you,” Dad said as he put his arm around me. “Be glad you have the memories, kiddo. Come on. Let’s go meet Cozy.”

  “Who’s Cozy?” I asked.

  “The new porcupine,” he replied.

  “That’s funny,” Miranda said. “Since literally nobody wants to get cozy with a porcupine.”

  “I’d do it!” I said. “How bad could it hurt?”

  Dad grimaced. “Pretty bad, actually. No one wants to get quilled. Trust me.”

  “Quilled?” I asked. “Is that a real thing?”

  “Definitely real,” he said. “The slightest touch causes a porcupine to lodge lots of quills into the face or body of the predator. Since the quills have barbs on the ends, they’re hard to get out of the skin. And painful. Just ask any dog who’s ever had an unfortunate run-in with a porcupine.”

  “You must really love it when one gets sick,” I said. “Do you have good gloves?”

  It made him laugh. “Very good gloves. I appreciate your concern, Juliet.”

  “No problem,” I said as we walked toward the porcupine exhibit. “You know I love all the animals here, but there’s one I wish you had that you don’t.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Squirrel monkeys.”

  “Honey, you do remember this is a zoo for animals native to California, right?”

  “I know, but couldn’t you make just one exception?” I asked. “They’re so adorable. And everyone would want to come see them.” I paused. “Wait. I know! You could change the name of the zoo from the California Living Museum to the Cute Animal Living Museum. You could still call it the CALM zoo because the letters would be the same.”

  “Cute Animal Living Museum?” Miranda asked. “That’s kind of brilliant, actually.”

  “Right?” I said. “Cute animals are the ones kids want to see the most anyway.”

  When we got to Cozy’s cage, Dad asked, “What do you think? Does Cozy make the cut for your new zoo? Is he cute enough?”

  His face definitely was. “As long as he doesn’t quill a poor squirrel monkey, then yes,” I said. “He can stay.”

  “You should ask your mom to take you to the San Diego Zoo,” Dad said. “Pretty sure they have them there, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  “Yeah, I want to go there with my two new friends,” I told him. “Carmen is the one who really loves squirrel monkeys.”

  “You’re a good friend, Juliet,” Dad said.

  “Get me a squirrel monkey and I’ll be the most awesome friend in the world,” I told him.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” he said. “I’m a veterinarian, not a magician.”

  Animals I’d want in the Cute Zoo

  *    Koala bears

  *    Giant panda bears

  *    Red pandas

  *    Red foxes

  *    Sea otters

  *    Harp seals

  *    Raccoons

  *    Bunnies

  *    Snowy owls

  *    Barn owls

  *    Squirrel monkeys

  *    Elephants (I totally think they’re cute, wrinkly skin and all)

  (On second thought, maybe the cute animals of the world should live in their own natural habitats whenever possible and kids like me should just watch them on YouTube.)

  “Inca!” I said when she walked through the door of the doughnut shop Sunday morning. I couldn’t help it—I jumped up from the table I’d snagged, scurried over, and threw my arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She smirked at me. “Really? I don’t know, I think you could act a little more excited, honestly.”

  “Ha. Very funny. Come on, let’s go order. I was waiting for you.”

  I ordered my usual, a Boston Cream and a hot chocolate. I expected Inca to order her usual as well—a maple bar and a pint of milk—but instead she got a chocolate coconut doughnut and a latte.

  “You drink coffee now?” I asked when we returned to our table with drinks and plates in hand. “When did that happen?”

  She smiled. “Ariel got me hooked. At first I drank it with mostly milk and a little bit of coffee. Once I got used to the taste, I moved on to a latte. Her mom has an espresso machine. It’s so cool. I wish my mom were just half that amazing. The only hot drink she’ll make me for me is turmeric milk. I’m so tired of drinking that.” She nudged her mug toward me. “Want to try it?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “No, thanks. I’ve tried coffee at home a couple of times. I don’t like the taste. Too bitter.”

  After she took a sip, she said, “You need to drink it with lots of milk first, like I did. I’m so glad Ariel suggested it to me. She’s smart.”

  I felt a little pinch in my heart at the mention of Ariel’s name again as I took a bite of my doughnut. I knew I shouldn’t be jealous of her, but jealousy is about as easy to control as a busy toddler. What else was Inca supposed to do, become a monk and not talk to anyone or do anything fun after I left Bakersfield? She needed friends, and if Ariel made her happy, that should have made me happy, too. I had Emma and Carmen, after all. But Inca and I had only been back together approximately six minutes and already she’d mentioned Ariel three times.

  “So. Tell me. Tell me all the things.” She reached back and tightened up her ponytail. One thing about Inca? She has the prettiest, waviest hair I’ve ever seen. It’s thick and black and really beautiful. I’ve been envious of it forever. She gets it from her mom, who is a major health nut. Maybe I needed to eat fewer pickles and drink more turmeric milk. Maybe that was the secret to gorgeous hair.

  “We went to Dad’s work yesterday and saw the new tortoise and porcupine,” I told her.

  “Ooh, what are their names?”

  “The tortoise is named Swifty and the porcupine is named Cozy.”

  Inca smiled. “Someone has a sense of humor.”

  “I wish you could have gone with us,” I said with a sigh. “It would have been so much more fun with you there. Miranda wasn’t all that interested. And Dad, well … He seemed kind of, I don’t know, distracted?”

  How could I explain it? I’d thought that we were off to a good start when Miranda declared it a backward day. But Dad didn’t help with the cookies at all. Miranda and I did everything, while he sat at the table, scrolling through his phone. When Miranda asked him about it, he said, “Sorry, dealing with some work stuff.”

  And when the cookies were finished, we asked what we should do until lunchtime. “Watch television?” he suggested.

  Right. Because we traveled four hours on a bus so we could sit and watch TV? It was like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with us, exactly. Or he hadn’t thought through what it would really mean to spend the weekend together, just the three of us. Things hadn’t been as bad at the zoo, and we’d ended up having a pretty good time. Still, I meant it when I said it would have been more fun with Inca there.

  Inca didn’t ask me to explain what I meant, though. Instead her phone buzzed and she kind of chuckled as she read the text, then started tapping out a reply. It seemed nosy to ask her about it, so I checked my phone, too, but I didn’t have any texts. I waited for a second and then decided to send something to Emma.

  Hey. Miss you. Things are kind of strange here. It feels like
I’ve been gone for years instead of weeks.

  After that, I nibbled on my doughnut while I waited for Inca to finish.

  “Sorry,” she said when she set the phone down. “What were we talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, even though I totally did know. But if she didn’t remember, it meant she wasn’t very interested. “So, did you have fun at the dance?”

  That question made her light up like a sunny day on the boardwalk. “Oh, Juliet, it was so fun.”

  “Did you dance?”

  She looked at me as if I’d asked if she liked doughnuts. “Yeah. Of course. Everyone danced.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yeah. I mean, why would you go to a dance if you weren’t gonna, you know, dance?”

  “Maybe because you don’t want to be the only one who stays home? Or maybe you just want to hang out with your friends.” I swallowed hard. “If I’d gone I don’t think I would have danced.”

  She took more bites of her doughnut and then wiped her mouth with her napkin, like she was really considering what to say next. “Juliet, maybe you think that now, but I bet you’d change your mind. No one cares if you look ridiculous or whatever because everyone kind of looks ridiculous, you know? That’s what Ariel says. That I need to stop worrying that people will judge me because that’s how you miss out on things. So that’s what I did.”

  I couldn’t deny it sounded like smart advice.

  “What about you?” Inca asked. “Have you made any friends at your new school?”

  Part of me wanted to tell her that yes, I had, and if it weren’t for them, I’d have been totally miserable. But another part of me wanted to keep Emma and Carmen to myself. Because no matter what I said, words couldn’t really describe how I felt about them and everything that had happened so far between us. Like, how awesome was it that Carmen loved Vincent van Gogh as much as I did? And then there was Emma, who had given me something I hadn’t even known I’d needed—a second place to call home, with a really nice and generous family.

  “Yeah,” I finally said. “I’ve met a couple of girls.” I waited to see if she’d ask me about them. Ask me how I met them or what their names were or what we liked to do together. But she didn’t ask anything. She turned back to her phone and smiled. And so, I checked mine and saw I had a text from Emma.

  Sorry. Did you bring your notebook of beautiful things? You need to find something beautiful and write about it, like Mrs. Button would. I bet it’d make you feel better.

  Maybe Ariel was smart. But so was Emma. Except, who decided it was a contest anyway?

  My doughnut sat in my stomach like a brick.

  “Inca?” I said.

  “Yeah?” She didn’t even look up.

  I stood up, my legs wobbly beneath me. “I gotta go. Thanks for the doughnut date.”

  Now she looked at me. “Wait. Why are you going so soon? Is everything okay?”

  I wanted to say no. I wanted to say I miss you and I wish things were the way they were before I left and I’m sad that things between us already feel so different. Instead I simply said, “I’m not feeling well, so I’m just going to go back to my dad’s. I’m sorry. See ya later.”

  She kind of frowned. “Okay. I hope you feel better.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sometimes you throw a bottle into the ocean and magical things happen. And sometimes you meet up with a friend for a doughnut and everything feels wrong.

  I wished it could be magical all the time, but I guess that isn’t how life works.

  Beautiful things in Bakersfield

  *    Seeing my dad’s smiling face.

  *    Tony’s pizza.

  *    Sleeping bags in a warm apartment instead of in the cold and scary woods.

  *    Chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven with a cup of tea.

  *    A hug from Inca.

  *    Meeting Cozy and Swifty at the zoo.

  *    Getting on the bus and feeling happy about going home. A new home, but a home all the same.

  (It took me about an hour to write this list on the bus. But I did it. And it did make me feel a little better about the weekend.)

  I didn’t tell anyone about my visit with Inca. I felt sad, but I didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t like anyone could do anything to change what happened. I’d moved away and she’d found someone to take my place. Someone way more fun than me, it seemed. The thing was, I didn’t have a good reason to be upset, really. Didn’t I want my best friend to be happy?

  It was like my cat. I’d gone away for the weekend and it’d be horrible of me to wish that he missed me so much he sat on my bed completely miserable. No, I should hope that he and Mom were having a fabulous time eating ice cream and watching Animal Planet together.

  Inca was my friend. She’d always be my friend. I knew that. But the longer we were apart, the more things would change. We’d probably keep growing more and more apart and it didn’t seem like there was anything I could do about that. And it was a horrible feeling.

  When I got home Sunday night, I ate dinner and went to bed. Mom asked me if everything was all right and I told her I was just really tired. Luckily, she didn’t push me. Casper cuddled with me as I snuggled up in my bed with a book. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, Miranda peeked her head in.

  “Hey, can I come in?”

  “I guess.” As she stepped into my room, I said, “But don’t bounce! Casper is comfortable.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said as she made a point to act like I slept on a fragile sheet of glass.

  “Very funny,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “This weekend was kind of … not the best,” she said.

  “Yeah. No zip-lining. No musical theater.”

  She groaned. “Pooh, the most exciting thing we did was stare at a tortoise for five minutes. I keep wondering, what happened? Is he clueless about what to do with us for two pitiful days?”

  I stroked Casper’s soft white body. “Mom was always the one who planned things for us to do together as a family. Movies. Hikes. Vacations. Maybe he doesn’t know how to plan?”

  “You know, that is really good point,” Miranda said.

  “Maybe he could take a class or something.”

  “Or …” She stood up and stretched. “Or it’s just going to take time for him to figure it out. If only I didn’t miss out on awesome stuff while that happens.”

  I yawned. “At least you got to spend time with me, right, Pooh?”

  She chuckled. “Oh yeah. Absolutely.” She started to head toward the door and then turned around. “Are you okay? I mean, I know it was super disappointing, but you’re all right?”

  I focused on Casper. His gentle purr. The curve of his tail. The arches of his adorable ears. “Yeah. I guess so. I just … I wish things were like they used to be,” I said softly.

  She stood there a minute before she finally said, “I’m sorry to say it, but you probably need to find something else to wish for.” And then she left.

  All day Monday, I kept checking my phone for a text from Inca, hoping she’d asked me if I felt better. Or told me she was sad we couldn’t have spent more time together. Something. Anything. But nothing came. I even turned my phone off and on again, in case something might be wrong with it.

  Monday after school, Carmen rode the bus home with Emma and me. We’d already decided we’d stop off at Emma’s house for a quick snack and then head to the store to talk to the manager.

  They asked me about my weekend but I didn’t say much. What was there to say, really? That my dad’s idea of a good time was sleeping on inflatable mattresses and watching hours of Spy in the Wild? That it kind of felt like I didn’t have a best friend anymore? That everything had changed so much in the past month I wasn’t sure if I’d moved to San Diego or the moon?

  As we walked to Emma’s house, the sun warm on our faces, Carmen brought it up again.

  “Wh
at’s your dad’s new place like, anyway?” she asked. “Do you have your own room?”

  “I do,” I told her. “He’s renting a three-bedroom apartment so Miranda and I both have our own rooms when we stay there.”

  “That was really nice of him,” Carmen said. “Did he buy you new furniture for it and everything?”

  “He ordered it,” I explained. “It’ll probably be there next time when we visit. Would have been nice if he’d asked me what I might like, but maybe it doesn’t matter that much.”

  “You must be excited to go back, right?” Carmen said.

  The question made my head hurt. If I said yes, it would sort of be a lie. If I said no, I’d sound like the biggest jerk of a daughter ever. I glanced over at Emma. She knew from some texts that it had been a pretty disappointing weekend. Carmen didn’t have a phone, so she didn’t really know that things hadn’t gone well. Fortunately, Emma spoke up so I didn’t have to.

  “Next time will be better, Juliet. New things aren’t always very fun, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “Right now it feels like it’ll be awful forever. It’s hard having parents who don’t live together.”

  When I glanced at Carmen, she had tears in her eyes as she nodded. I didn’t know if her parents were divorced or her dad had died or what. I couldn’t deny I was curious, but I also knew it was best to let her tell us when she was ready.

  Emma linked her arm with mine. “At least you have us, right? I know that no one can take the place of your dad, but …” She started singing, “You’ve got a friend in me.” She corrected herself, “I mean, you’ve got a friend in us.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. Now, do we know what we’re going to say when we walk into the store and ask to speak to the manager?”